Spring

NOTHING is so beautiful as spring—When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrushThrough the echoing timber does so rinse and wringThe ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brushThe descending blue; that blue is all in a rushWith richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.What is all this juice and all this joy?A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginningIn Eden garden.—Have, get, before it cloy,Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,Most, O maid’s child, thy choice and worthy the winning.

—Gerard Manley Hopkins

Today's response:

Spring sprung rhythm

Nothing's as welcome as spring after a rough winterwe are still waiting watching potholes swallow wheels of carsbumping thumping loud the sound the grind and thrashWhere is all the juice and joy—dirt rise up!we long for mudslush rush of river still glazed over beneath skies the soft greylike daze of pussywillows: christ lord, the monocromatic is monotonousthis is an invocation bring on the green the glory the dramatic entrance of spring on the back of the nuthatch spring take wing!